


Need, Love.

by ThreeSidedOrchid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM themes, Blow Jobs, Choking, Facials, Humiliation, M/M, Supernatural Kink Meme, minor breathplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 15:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4354466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeSidedOrchid/pseuds/ThreeSidedOrchid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little fluff comment fic (more a drabble), about Castiel's love for Dean, and why they're not more than friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need, Love.

**Author's Note:**

> written for an any pairing/any kink open prompt at the SPN kink meme. This work is unbeta'd.

\--

_Castiel loves Dean._

Concrete floor unyielding against his knees, fingers bruising his jaw open, spit-soaked lips stretched wide around the cock. 

_Despite the macho, playboy facade, Dean is a good man, and Castiel knows he would make a generous lover._

He chokes a little, cock hitting the back of his throat and pressing there a beat, two, three, before pulling back. Castiel gasps for air even as the cock is thrust back in. The hands at his jaw slide down to his neck, pressing firm against his throat and sending white light flickering behind his eyes.

_Which is why Castiel cannot bring himself to pop the trembling tension between them, to carry them over from friendship to lovers, even when he can see his desire mirrored in Dean's eyes._

The cock rips free of his mouth and Castiel tumbles forward without it, catching himself on his hands. His chest heaves, pain spinning dizzily out from his lungs across his whole body. Every cell in his body sparks with feeling, alive.

“Look at me.” 

_Because Dean doesn't know these shadowed corners of Castiel's heart, that ache for order, command, and other, more unmentionable things._

Castiel opens his eyes, mouth still open and panting, wet with spit. Though he tries to obey, he cannot bring his gaze above the cock in front of his face, the strong hand stripping it in quick strokes.

_Castiel could ask him, and Dean would give, and give, and eventually break. He's not made for this._

The first splash of come makes him flinch, shoulders trying to curl in. More slaps hot across his cheeks, lips, forehead. He can feel it dripping down, splattering across the backs of his hands. Castiel shudders, imagining how he must look now, debased and aching, and he comes. His own seed spills across the concrete, his body jerking with each pulse.

_But Crowley is._

“So pretty when you cry, angel.”

\--  
end


End file.
